


Clark's Secret

by Kantayra



Category: Smallville
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-16
Updated: 2006-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:39:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex's propensity for fondling phallic objects causes Clark to nearly lose it (i.e. all of season one).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clark's Secret

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of crack!fic. It was a challenge by strippedpink, and I was helpless to resist. *head desk* Thanks to txtequilanights, as usual, for putting up with my insanity. :P

The first time Clark touched _it_ in that way, he’d been thirteen. He’d been up in the loft, spying on Lana’s house across the way. He hadn’t even thought about it at the time. _It_ had just been so hard and long in his hand, and…

He’d pretty much spent the next week hiding in his room, cheeks flushed with shame, unable to face his parents, his friends, and – most especially – Lana.

Eventually his dad had caught him mid-sneak between the loft and his bedroom, placed a manly hand on his shoulder, and dragged him out to work on the tractor for the next three hours. The entire conversation was something of a surreal blur, but Clark thought that it might have been supposed to be The Talk. Either that, or his dad was trying to teach him how carburetors worked. Clark wasn’t exactly sure. Ah, well. That’s what sex ed class was for, anyway.

So, that first experience had been traumatic enough that he’d resigned then and there not to touch _it_ again like that any time soon.

It was a resolution that had lasted a grand total of six hours.

After that, he’d just sort of given up. After all, he was a teenage boy, and his hand’s relationship to _it_ was comparatively normal. At least, that was what internet pop-up ads assured him. Compared to running almost faster than the eye could see, it was really almost healthy.

For two years, Clark had been just fine.

And then, of course, Lex Luthor had come to town, and things had taken a turn for the bizarre. Clark could survive being hit by speeding vehicles, and he’d crash-landed on Earth in a little spaceship, and – oh yeah – he _really_ liked giving eccentric, rich, bald guys mouth-to-mouth. So much so that he’d spent nearly as much time that week obsessing over whether mouth-to-cock existed and, if so, what legitimate medical circumstances there were for administering it as, say, the fact that he was an alien.

Clark figured that his priorities were kind of screwed up.

Because, while the whole ‘from another planet’ thing kind of made sense to him, the ‘holy crap, I’m really kind of gay!’ part was freaking him out. He’d thought that he and _it_ had a very firm relationship with Lana, and now that his fantasies were centering more on how very round and shiny Lex’s head was and whether Lex’s _other_ head was just as pretty, and…

Where was he? Oh, right. He and _it_ were having a serious falling out.

It really didn’t help that Lex was making it his personal mission in life to be _everywhere_ that Clark was, complete with offers of eternal friendship and that sly little quirk of his lips that promised so much more than _just_ friendship. Lex wanted to be Clark’s friend; Clark very much wanted Lex to be his friend too. And not in the usual sort of way, either.

Clark wanted Lex to be his friend in the sort of way that would cause his dad to haul out his shotgun and hunt Lex down.

It just wasn’t a good situation for anyone. So, Clark and _it_ had been trying to turn their attention back to Lana. Every evening, Clark would focus his lens in on the porch, spending hours out in the chill night air. But, inevitably, he’d turn his eyes to the stars instead because – oh, shit – he and _it_ were kind of tired of looking at Lana. And Clark had discovered that, looking at the stars, he could think about life and destiny and most importantly _Lex_ , who was now very intimately acquainted with both those points in Clark’s mind.

Clark was so very fucked. Except, y’know, not literally. Which was the problem.

He was spending more and more evenings up in the loft, safely away from his parents and the house, and thinking about Lex, and then his eyes would inevitably drift down to _it_ , and… Well, sooner or later _something_ had to give. Clark was convinced of this, the way that all youth is convinced that everything has a natural conclusion.

This time, however, things did reach a culmination. Specifically, on a Saturday evening in early September when Clark had been lying back on his couch in the loft, thinking of _it_ , and suddenly a voice broke into his private, pornographic introspection.

“Your mother told me I could find you up here.”

Clark sat up with a start of surprise and, sure enough, who was there but the very object of his fantasies. Clark licked his suddenly dry lips and tried not to stare _too_ hard at where Lex’s tight gray sweater all but _clung_ to lean, lithe muscles or where dark wool pants highlighted the absolutely perfect curve of Lex’s ass. Clark had never met anyone before who could look so _naked_ , even while completely dressed. He dropped a pillow onto his lap, his new Pavlovian response to Lex’s presence.

“What’s up?” he asked with the biggest, goofiest grin in the known universe. Instantly, he began berating himself for, once again, being the opposite of smooth.

Smooth was the way Lex sauntered throughout the loft, glancing around curiously, his lips shaped into a secretive little smile that he reserved for Clark. Smooth was also – Clark was confident – the feel of Lex’s skin beneath his hands and tongue, pale and silky but corded with muscular power beneath.

Clark stopped berating himself long enough to debate internally whether speedgroping was an as-of-yet-undiscovered power of his and, if so, how dangerous it was to try it out right now. Hence, he missed Lex’s answer completely.

“Uh… Huh?” He blinked up at Lex in awed sexual arousal.

And then Lex turned, and his eyes alighted on _it_. Clark gulped when that silver manic light that Lex sometimes got filled his eyes as he continued to study _it_.

“Do you mind?” Lex asked mischievously, eyelashes fluttering in a way that was almost demure.

Clark managed a wheeze and a nod, and then Lex was _touching_ …

Oh, _God_! It was even better than Clark’s wildest fantasies. Lex’s hand circled the shaft slowly, stroking up and down gently three times before he leaned in close to get a better look.

Clark’s hands tightened on the couch cushion beneath him as a hot breath of air escaped Lex’s lips – a warm cloud of mist visible in the cool of the autumn night – and then Lex was _breathing_ on _it_ , the long column rubbing his cheek as Lex all but _nuzzled_ it, and…

“Incredible,” Lex breathed, his voice low and husky. Lex always sounded like that when _all_ his formidable attention was focused on just one thing, and it was the hottest thing Clark had ever heard.

Clark whimpered in agreement.

“I can make out Jupiter quite clearly. Although the lens is a bit smudged.” And Lex blew on _its_ lens and then _wiped_ it with the soft cashmere of his sweater.

Clark’s teeth ground together as he fought back his moan.

“Clark?” Lex looked up in surprise at where Clark was all but having a sexual seizure on the couch. “Are you feeling all right?” His hand reached out one last time to caress the thick steel of Clark’s telescope, and Clark whimpered.

“I’m feeling a bit warm,” Clark offered in a voice that sounded downright pathetic. _Specifically, in my pants._

Concern marred Lex’s brow, and he approached Clark. “It’s quite cool. Have you checked for a fever?” Lex rested his hand on Clark’s forehead. “You do feel hot.”

“I am.”

“Pardon?” Lex raised a perplexed eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Clark flushed. “I’m just feeling kind of weird.”

“You should get some rest,” Lex concluded, sounding genuinely concerned. “I can come back when you’re feeling better.”

It was either that, or Clark was going to sexually assault Lex right then and there. Clark wasn’t sure which option was preferable, so he just nodded weakly.

Lex gave his shoulder a final, reassuring squeeze and then left.

With a groan, Clark pushed the pillow off his lap and then glared across the loft at _it_. _It_ , as usual, stood proud and undeterred, staring out into the night. Clark could still see images, as if they’d been burned into his retinas, of Lex _fondling_ it. His pants were seriously starting to chafe.

“Stupid, sexy telescope,” he grumbled, unzipped his pants, and walked over to _it_.

With a groan of resignation, Clark wrapped one hand around the telescope like Lex had, the other around his cock, and settled in for yet another evening of an alien, his telescope, and fantasies of Lex Luthor.

Oh, yeah. His life was just _so_ normal.


End file.
